


Good Boys

by Airdanteine, bewaretheboojum, clarityhiding, njw, salazarastark, Silver_Snow_77, strawberryjei



Series: A Journey of Personal Discovery Through Social Isolation [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Animal Transformation, Asexual Character, Asexual Jason Todd, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Tim Drake, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, please ask about our dragon!Dick headcanons we assure you they are not what you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airdanteine/pseuds/Airdanteine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewaretheboojum/pseuds/bewaretheboojum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding, https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw, https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarastark/pseuds/salazarastark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Snow_77/pseuds/Silver_Snow_77, https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryjei/pseuds/strawberryjei
Summary: A dog, two aces, and lots of cuddles.





	Good Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayzenigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayzenigma/gifts).



> A birthday gift for ayzenigma from a bunch of us on the Capes & Coffee Discord server! We had such a blast doing the last round-robin that we had to keep up the tradition.

Red Hood flies across the rooftops toward the flashing lights and sounds of screaming, ready to defend the innocent from the mage who has wreaked havoc over the past few nights. He finally manages to get the drop on the asshole, knocking him out before he can do anything to the cowering civilians in the alleyway. They run the moment the guy goes down, leaving him alone in the filthy Gotham alley with an unconscious mage.

Sighing, he binds the dumbass, grinning as he leaves him in an embarrassing pose, and then calls it in. He’ll wait until Zatanna gets here, and then maybe—

A soft whimper draws his attention to what he’d assumed was just another pile of trash, and he goes tense.

“Who’s there?” he calls, taking a slow, cautious step toward the source of the noise. Chances are it’s only another victim, unluckier than the people he just saved, but he knows better than to drop his guard. Not in Gotham.

His only answer is another quiet whine. It goes straight to his heart and he holsters his gun, cursing, before moving forward to get a better look. It’s a dog. Big, at least seventy pounds, and lying on its side, panting softly.

“Aw, fuck,” Red Hood curses, dropping to his knees at its side. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

The dog’s muscles ripple as it tries to rise, only succeeding in aggravating its injuries and incidentally flashing Hood some very definite proof that this is a _boy_ dog. He winces at the animal’s ensuing soft whine and reaches out to hold it still, grateful for his thick gloves which will protect him from the worst of any bites.

Fortunately, the animal rests quietly while he tends the wounds as best he can. Bruises, a few nasty gashes, and what feels like a sprained foreleg he’ll have to splint when he gets home. Zatanna comes and goes while he’s tending to the dog, taking the idiot mage with her. Good thing, because the kind of asshole who’s willing to hurt an innocent _dog_ is not someone he wants to risk spending any more time around than he has to. He’s managed to make the switch to rubber bullets, but those can still cause permanent damage at a close enough distance and they sure as shit aren’t the only way he knows to kill someone. Right now, every whimper that slips out of this dog is chipping away at his own resolve.

Finally, he’s done. “Well, damn,” Hood says, looking at the admittedly really fuckin’ big dog in front of him. “Now, how the hell am I supposed to get you _home?”_

* * *

Jason vows to lift more weights when he can actually feel his arms again. The poor dog is heavy, which tells him that someone probably cares about him, at least enough to make certain he’s well fed. The dog whimpers whenever Jason makes a wrong step, though if he didn’t know better, he would say that the dog was deliberately trying to smother the whimpers.

He’s just very glad he lives only three blocks away from the alley. It still takes much longer than he’d like to make it back to his apartment, up the four flights of stairs, and to the couch.

Yeah, he _definitely_ needs to do more weights. The dog looks up at him with big blue eyes. Are those usual in German Shepherds?

That doesn’t matter, not right now. What _does_ matter is getting this dog the medical attention he needs.

He doesn’t know where the nearest animal hospital is, and the dog doesn’t have a collar which means no owner or vet to call. He’ll have to take him in tomorrow because at this time of night, he’s shit out of luck. The only 24 hour animal hospital in Gotham was at Hudson University, and it shut down about a year ago due to lack of funding. Luckily, he knows some basic first aid that should work in the meantime. All of his work from the alley looks good and like it’s keeping, so he carefully sits down next to the dog who immediately puts his head in Jason’s lap.

He smiles down at the dog, and begins to scratch behind an ear. There’s some gray in the fur, which tells him that this dog is probably on the older side.

“Hey, buddy. How you feeling?” Jason says, trying to keep his voice low and soothing.

A low whine comes from the dog.

“That bad, huh? Well, I’ve gotten hurt a lot too. You bounce back.”

The dog raises his head, and Jason could swear it’s like the animal is scanning his body for injuries. “Not hurt now, buddy.” He gestures toward himself. “Like I told you! You do get better.”

The dog just stares at him, and then with a strangely determined look, licks the side of Jason's face. If he were the kind of man who giggles, the noises that escape his mouth could be classified as such. His smile stretches wide, almost hurting.

He can’t remember the last time he smiled like that. He always did want a dog, but that would have been impossible in Crime Alley and he had always been too nervous to bring the subject up with Bruce.

He turns to look at the dog, who has his head cocked and something that Jason would almost call a little doggy smile on his face. “Thanks, buddy.” He leans over and gives the dog a kiss on the top of his head. The dog gives a small bark, which draws another laugh out of him. He then leans back into the couch, and reaches for the remote. The dog settles his head back onto his lap, keeping Jason weighted down and unable to move.

He doesn’t mind. It’s nice.

* * *

Bruce ignores the sounds and images on the screen, focusing instead on his long-estranged son who is _laughing,_ grinning openly, eyes alight with happiness. It’s an expression he hasn’t seen on Jason’s face since… _before._ He hadn’t even realized his big, tough, grown-up son could still look so young and carefree.

Jason’s fingers gently stroke along his back and head and he allows his eyes to fall half-shut, reveling in the proximity and affection. He’d never expected to be able to spend time in his second child’s presence again without painful recriminations, explosive arguments, and regret.

Then again, even the _Batman_ couldn’t have predicted something like _this_ happening.

Animal transformation is not unheard of in their line of work, of course, but this particular mage had shown no signs of that particular talent previously. Perhaps he’d been saving the more powerful spells for going up against someone like the Bat, as had happened earlier this evening. It was fortunate Red Hood came upon the scene when he did; otherwise, the mage most likely would have escaped after catching Batman off-guard with his spell.

Whatever the circumstances, the outcome does not change. Bruce is currently in the form of a dog, resting his head on his son’s lap.

His headstrong, turbulent boy with whom he never seems to manage to say the right thing. Usually, he somehow says exactly the _wrong_ thing instead. Well, he’s got a chance to spend time with Jason now and, thanks to that mage, it’s not physically _possible_ for him to blurt out something unintentionally hurtful and alienate the boy further.

As for others worrying about his whereabouts, he was scheduled to head over to the Watchtower for routine monitoring after patrol tonight. His family will believe he is there while his associates at the League will likely assume he was simply tied up with his work in Gotham. He’s… free to take a break, if he so desires.

Mind made up, he allows his eyes to fall closed. He’ll have to let Jason know who he is… eventually. For now, he’s just going to enjoy this time with his son.

Just as he’s falling asleep, the sound of a window sliding open is followed by a draft of cool night air and slight clamor as though someone is entering the room. His eyes snap open and he stumbles to his feet between Jason and the window, protecting his boy despite the stabbing pain at the sudden movement. He’s growling viciously, teeth bared, before he even has a chance to recognize the intruder.

When he finally focuses, the person is crouched slightly, hands raised disarmingly and mouth open in surprise. Recognition jolts through him and he jerks in shock.

Or possibly because Jason’s big hand is now gently gripping the scruff of his neck and holding him back, other arm carefully looped around his middle to support his weight. “Whoa! You’re gonna hurt yourself! Down, boy! That’s just Timmy.”

Trying to understand why Jason sounds so _fond_ when the last time he saw these two in each other’s presence he was legitimately worried one would seriously injure the other, Bruce just blinks back and forth between them.

“Uh,” Tim says, blinking as he slowly lowers his hand and rises from his defensive crouch. “Considering you're always saying no animal pets until I've managed to keep the houseplants alive for a least a year… when did we get a dog?”

* * *

Tim eyes Bruce warily as he moves in closer. He’s still wearing his uniform from patrol that night and Bruce can smell the lingering bite of explosives clinging to it. Tim hadn’t mentioned any cases that involved demolition work to him earlier…

He’s still scenting the air, trying to get a better idea of where his son may have been planting explosives tonight, as Tim pulls off one of his gloves and drapes it over his forearm, then holds out his bare hand to Bruce’s nose.

Bruce takes a few sniffs and then taps the offered fingers with the tip of his nose, trying to indicate non-verbally that he no longer sees him as a threat. Tim smiles at Bruce then, his face softening as he relaxes his posture and kneels beside him.

“Hey, buddy,” he says in a soft tone of voice that Bruce has never heard from him before. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? A good, big boy.”

Usually, Tim is all business with Bruce, brisk and direct. They talk about the mission or Tim’s schooling in tight, technical terms. Now he seems softer, more relaxed in a way that Bruce hasn’t seen in years.

“At least he seems friendly,” Tim says to Jason, looking up with a smile as he moves his hand to rub at Bruce’s ears. “Looks like he got a little roughed up, though. You break up a dog-fighting ring tonight or something? I thought you were looking into that mage.”

Jason kneels down and rubs at the side of Bruce’s neck. “Nah, I found him after I knocked out the mage. The poor pup must have gone after the guy and gotten roughed up.”

Tim’s brow furrows as he looks Bruce over, taking his time as he checks over the bandages and splint with warm, gentle hands. “We’ll have to take him for tests tomorrow,” he says. “He’ll need more serious attention than this.”

“Yeah, this was the best I could do for now,” Jason replies. “I was about to start looking around for an emergency vet online that we could get a quick appointment with. You’d think in a city this size, there’d be a 24-hour emergency clinic, but the closest one is in Bludhaven of all places.”

“Well, he doesn’t look like he’s about to fall over, so I guess we’re okay,” Tim says, getting back to his feet and stretching. “Let’s get out of these uniforms and we can start a search.”

Bruce limps along, following Jason and Tim as they make their way into the bedroom. It's surprising to see them so calm and easy with each other. He's much more accustomed to see them bickering and picking fights. Seeing them like this now, he can't help but wonder how much of that bickering is an act for his benefit.

He settles into a comfortable position on the floor of Jason’s bedroom while the boys change. What surprises him is that Tim has clothes in Jason’s clean laundry basket. Interesting. That wasn’t something he had expected.

They joke easily together as they dress and debate what to get for dinner.

“So, mac and cheese for dinner, marshmallows for dessert and some dog food for our new buddy,” Jason summarizes as he pulls a clean sweatshirt over his head.

“How crazy do you think the guy from Postmates will think we are? On a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Oh man, that’s nothing. I ever tell you about the time that I Postmated a new Gerber Knife, a box of Oreos, and some lighter fluid?”

Tim laughs and shakes his head as he grabs his cell phone and makes his way back out of the bedroom. Jason follows and Bruce gets up to stiffly pad after the two of them. Tim flops onto the couch and Jason settles in close before patting the empty space on the sofa next to them.

Bruce tilts his head, eyeing the boys’ positioning closely. Their bodies are pressed together from shoulder to thigh and they seem _very_ comfortable and at ease together. Almost as though…

His eyes widen, clues fitting together in his mind to form an astonishing picture. The evidence indicates the pair live together, their apparent level of familiarity, the very obvious trust the two share—there’s only one logical conclusion. Tim and Jason are engaged in a romantic relationship with one another. He blinks, stunned.

“Come on, boy, you can hop up with us if you want,” Jason coaxes and smiles at Bruce with a soft expression on his face.

He can consider the ramifications of his realization later. Bruce painfully makes his way up on the sofa beside the two of them, Jason helping him when needed. He rests his heavy head on his son’s lap and sighs.

“You’re such a good boy. And good boys need good pets,” Jason says in a goofy tone of voice.

“Yes, they do. They need good pets,” Tim says back, reaching over Jason to scratch at Bruce’s ears for a few long moments.

It’s when Tim turns his attention back to his phone that Bruce notices the pictures scattered around the living room. The first one that he zeroes in on is a small eight-by-ten snapshot in a shiny silver frame sitting on the side table next to the couch. In the picture, Jason and Tim are smiling wide at a Knights game, wearing baseball jerseys and hats and lifting their hot pretzels high in salute to whoever is taking the picture. They look… very happy. And very close.

There are a few more framed pictures on the end table and up on the walls. Jason and Tim smiling together at a beach, arms around each other’s shoulders as Tim smiles into the camera and Jason smiles down at Tim. Another with Tim and the girls, Harper, Cass and Steph all with arms linked together at the elbow, wearing matching t-shirts. Tim, Dick and Jason sitting by a pool.

There are dozens of snapshots of Bruce’s children lining the walls and flat surfaces. The pictures are of outings and get-togethers Bruce doesn’t think he had known about.

“Ok, Postmates order is achieved. Hopefully we haven’t been placed on any new government watch lists as a result,” Tim says, breaking through Bruce’s contemplative perusal. “Now for vets.”

“We’ll need one that specializes in emergency care. Poor guy will for sure need X-rays at least. May an MRI.” Jason leans in close over Tim’s shoulder to look down at his phone. “Do they even do that for dogs?”

“Here’s one. It has good reviews and there’s an online form we can fill out the reason for the visit,” Tim replies, lifting the phone so Jason can see it better.

"Sounds good."

"Huh. It wants the pet's name. Do we have one yet? I can always put down 'undecided,'" Tim says, but there's a light in his eyes that Bruce doesn't like. While he's probably in safer hands than he would be with Damian, he has a bad feeling about this.

"'Undecided Todd'? That makes it sound like we don't want him.”

"Wait, why is he a Todd? Don't I get equal say in this? Drake-Todd, at least."

"Todd-Drake," Jason counters. " _I_ lugged his heavy ass here. And his name is Dog. Nice, solid name and it'll piss Damian off to no end."

Tim's eyes narrow. "Oh, you're good. Fine. Name, Dog."

Having figured out the most important thing, his sons go through what they know about Bruce’s injuries, outlining them in the form.

“Is your pet spayed or neutered?” Tim reads aloud from the form.

“Very much no,” Jason says, deadpan and Tim lets out a soft, companionable laugh.

The bad feeling grows.

“Let’s put down that we want to get him neutered if he isn't chipped. They’ll probably have to put him out for the X-rays so we might as well not give him anesthesia twice. Not at his age.”

Bruce’s heart drops at that. He makes a quiet whimpering noise and when Jason and Tim look over at him, he lets out a low, authoritative woof. He hopes it clearly expresses his disapproval of that plan.

“Ohhh, someone is very much attached to his balls,” Jason jokes. “Don’t worry about it, bud. You’ll never miss them!” He rubs at Bruce’s ears comfortingly.

Bruce is feeling decidedly not comforted.

As they work through the rest of the form, Bruce worries about the vet visit. He also wonders about what will happen if he can’t find a way to communicate to the boys who he is and get the spell reversed in time. He wishes he hadn’t been so out of it when Zatanna was around. Maybe he could have communicated with her.

The Postmates delivery guy arrives a few minutes later. Jason preps dinner for all of them as Tim finishes filling out the forms for the vet. The three of them eat, sitting on the floor near the sofa. Bruce assumes that this is for his benefit because one or both of them are petting him while they eat.

After dinner, they climb back up on the sofa together. Jason pulls out a battered paperback while Tim dozes on the couch, his laptop whirring away as it runs whatever subroutines he has programmed for today.

They both look relaxed, comfortable, easy. Bruce finds himself drifting off to sleep, his head nestled in Jason’s lap. The surprise of discovering these two are far closer than he ever expected is fading and he’s finding himself far more amenable to a potential relationship between them than he might have been if he hadn’t seen for himself how well they seem to work together.

Now, if only he could find a way to stay in this form and enjoy spending more time with them _without_ sacrificing any portions of his anatomy.

* * *

The morning takes Bruce by surprise. It begins with the returning realization of being on four legs that end in paws, and only escalates with the urge to use the facilities. Somewhere between the two, he takes in his second son, who is currently using his third son as a makeshift pillow. With a dog (why did it have to be _their father transformed into a dog why)_ splayed across both of their laps _,_ the resulting scene is downright domestic. That is all well and good, but there are more pressing matters at hand.

Jason lets out a pained groan and knocks over his discarded paperback. “Really, boy? Was it necessary to _kick_ me to wake me up? I also accept doggy kisses, you know. I’m wounded, I tell you. Wounded. How can I surprise Tim with breakfast when you've kicked us both awake?”

Bruce painfully walks over to the front door and sits, pointedly staring at Jason.

“Jaaaaay?”

“Yeah, that’s me, little bird.” Jason meets Tim’s outstretched arms with a hug. “Dog over here wants out to do his business. Do we have any doggy bags perchance?”

“Nuh brain fuhnshun ‘fore coffee, cuddles, or both, Jay. Don’ wanna think.” Tim stumbles into the bedroom, sleep still clearly at the forefront of his mind. Bruce had originally assumed it to be Jason's bedroom, but with what he's since seen in addition to further mastery of his newly heightened senses, among them smell, he's starting to think he should reassess and view it as the _master_ bedroom instead.

With that thought, he feels a visceral sinking in his stomach as the ramifications become clear. Tim and Jason share a room. Together. Romantically. They believe he is just a normal dog. People often engage in… _personal_ activities quite freely in front of pets.

He shudders. Well, he’ll do his best to head off any possible overly enthusiastic displays of affection the boys may attempt to engage in while he’s here. Surely it won’t be _that_ difficult? He winces in horror at the thought, then shakes it off.

“Night, Jay,” Tim mumbles, “night, Dog.” The loud _FWUMPT_ of a deadweight falling on a mattress tells its own story.

Oh, Tim. Well, at least there’s clearly nothing to worry about on the uncomfortable displays of affection front at the moment. Bruce knows from experience once his third son goes down that hard, nothing short of a full-scale world-ending crisis is getting him out of bed. That, or an unhealthy amount of caffeine. He snorts, shaking his head at Tim’s ridiculous habits, trying not to think about how painfully similar they are to his own.

He will worry about avoiding getting an eyeful later. Right now, his top priority is restraining himself from having a highly embarrassing accident on the floor. Jason will _constantly_ retell the story if _that_ happens.

Glancing around the room, he catches sight of a large potted plant by the window and briefly considers the option of relieving himself on it. No, that’s a _terrible_ idea. He shakes his head and quickly looks away to remove the temptation, but his situation is rapidly becoming painful. Something must be done, and quickly.

He cringes, unintentionally whining, and his son reacts immediately.

“Oh, shit! Sorry Dog, c’mon.” Jason hurries to guide him out of the apartment and to an acceptable location. He manages to scrounge a plastic bag off the street and adapt it for their purposes, dumping the whole mess into a trash can on their way back to the apartment as Bruce quietly dies a little on the inside.

Jason will _never_ let him live this down once he finds out the truth. _Never._

They finally make it back, mercifully without any additional humiliating incidents. As Jason begins preparing breakfast, humming under his breath and pausing every once in a while to toss Bruce a tasty scrap, his embarrassment slowly fades to acceptance. If his dignity is the price of being able to finally spend time with his children like this, then it’s worth the cost. Worth _any_ cost.

“So, you ready for your visit to the vet today, buddy?” Jason grins and Bruce feels his new-found determination and contentment shrivel at the reminder, along with his testicles which feel as though they are attempting to retreat into his body.

Oh, right. He’d temporarily forgotten about _that_ little complication. Well, this is going to be an interesting day.

* * *

“Oh my god, I can’t believe he _did_ that,” Tim complains as he throws open their apartment door, allowing Jason and a disgraced Dog to enter. “I can’t believe you _did_ that!” he addresses Dog, whose head and tail droop as though in shame over his behavior at the veterinary clinic. “You know we can never show our faces there again, right?”

Jason’s laughing, the big jerk. “There are other vets in town.”

“That’s not the _point!_ Seriously, how are you so fine with this?” Tim shakes his head.

His boyfriend shrugs. “Because it’s funny as hell? Honestly, he didn’t actually _bite_ anyone. He just… nabbed the syringe full of sedatives outta the vet’s hand and then ran off with it.”

_“Three times.”_ Tim feels like this is a very important point and thus needs to be stated.

Jason just grins wider. “Y’know, by that point I’m pretty sure he thought he was playing fetch with the vet. You did, didn’t you?” he addresses Dog, who wags his tail hopefully. _“Yeah_ you did! You’re such a good boy who is so good at fetch, aren’t you?” He gives the now perky-looking animal some pets. “Anyway, he was an angel for the rest of the appointment. Held perfectly still for the exam and treatment, even the X-rays! Which was probably for the best anyway, we have no idea how old the poor guy is. Who knows how he would have reacted to the drugs!”

Well, that’s true. And the veterinarian _was_ able to administer all the necessary treatment without the sedatives, even managing to check and tend to the sprained foreleg. The woman had exclaimed in astonishment over Dog’s excellent behavior… barring his reaction to any and every appearance of a syringe.

Tim sighs, flopping onto the couch. At least he’d managed to catch a Bulbasaur in the veterinarian’s clinic, along with a Magikarp he couldn’t resist adding to his collection even though he _knows_ they’re just trashfish.

And really, Dog hadn’t actually caused any damage or hurt anyone. It could have been so much worse. He finally relaxes, smiling. “You’re right. It was just really surprising, that’s all, especially when he’s such a good boy otherwise. I guess he must’ve had a bad experience with a syringe at some point along the way.”

Jason sprawls at his side, big arm dropped companionably over his shoulders. “Poor boy. C’mere, bud.” He pats the couch next to them and grins when Dog clambers up beside them, moving much more easily now that he isn’t in as much pain. “You know you only postponed the inevitable, right? The vet’s ordering special sedative pills we’ll feed you at home before we take you in for your next appointment in three days. Those balls are gonna hafta go, man. Just lean into it and enjoy the puppy-Xanax when it comes.”

Tim glances over at Dog, then has to laugh as well. The expression on his face is _hilarious,_ almost like he understands what Jason just said and _hates_ it. It’s probably just gas or something, but it’s really funny.

Coming home to find his boyfriend randomly adopted a _dog_ was a surprise _,_ but it probably shouldn’t have been. Jason’s got the biggest, softest heart he’s ever seen. And considering how carefully he tends to the needs of his existing ‘pet(s)’—Tim glances at the highly trustworthy and massive spider plant overtaking their specially reinforced windowsill, along with its fifty babies—Dog is almost certainly here to stay.

Tim watches as he cuddles Dog and pats him, consoling him for the imminent loss of his testicles.

What a dork. He grins, loving every moment of it. Having a dog is really starting to grow on him.

The sentiment isn’t quite as strong later when Jason tries to lean in for a chaste, affectionate kiss and Dog unaccountably panics, darting forward to grab the hem of Tim’s shirt with his teeth and gently but firmly drag him away from his boyfriend.

What the heck?

“…maybe he thought I was gonna hurt you? We have no idea what situation he came from so he may have had some unusual socialization,” Jason offers. “I’m sure he’ll get used to it eventually.”

Well, hopefully Dog won’t see it as a threat when Tim asks his boyfriend for a nice back massage later.

Dog does object to the massage.

Over the course of the day, they find out Dog also objects vociferously to foot rubs, hand-holding, and any cuddling session which becomes too prolonged according to whatever rubric he has in his tiny little wolf-brain.

Why did they get a dog again?

Tim sits on the couch, arms crossed over his chest as he pouts at the dog lying stretched out, separating him from Jason who is laughing at him from all the way at the other end. “We just gotta show him we aren’t gonna hurt each other whenever we get close,” he offers, patting at Dog like the traitor he is.

“Great,” Tim says with a little huff. “Well, since Dog won’t let us lie down on the bed together _as we discovered earlier_ —” he reflects sadly for a moment on the nap that never was before continuing with a smirk, “—I guess you better stay out here on the couch with him until he learns.”

Jason’s brows rise and his mouth drops open in surprise before he shrugs and nods. “Yeah, whatever. Listen, hear the thunder? Bundle up, it’s gonna storm tonight and you won’t have me to keep you warm like usual.”

“Probably best if I just stay in and catch up on my sleep debt.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Tim winks, not missing the hopeful tone in Jason’s voice. “I’m still taking the bed.”

They manage one quick kiss before Dog jealously separates them by nosing between their bodies. Tim’s almost out of the room and on his way to bed when a soft lick on his hand catches his attention and he looks down to see Dog, nuzzling him and requesting goodnight pats.

Well, maybe he’s not so bad after all. Tim smiles and slips into the room, shivering as another clap of thunder rattles the windows slightly. Yeah, tonight’s going to be _quite_ the storm.

* * *

Bruce has noticed that being a dog isn't as different from being a human as one would think. There are the changing senses of course, though his vision has been remarkably unaffected. His sense of smell and hearing are more sensitive now, so he's been aware of thunderstorm for a couple hours more than Jason and Tim, two of his beautiful, smart, and incredible sons.

He whines and nuzzles his nose into Jason's hand, not liking the fact that Tim is heading out on his own tonight, alone. Perhaps it’s a canine need to have both of his humans close, but there are also fatherly instincts at work here. While he hasn’t experienced an animal transformation yet, it’s not the first time he’s encountered it. When Dick got turned into a dragon, he had said it was the most relaxing time of his life. All he did was wander around the manor, collecting his brothers to hoard in a blanket nest, ignoring the screams of terror and despair as he had grabbed each one.

Bruce had hidden in the attic, afraid of the sharp claws and teeth his eldest now sported. Alfred had joined him, and they actually had a nice time camping up there as Dick's purrs could be heard throughout the entire house. The temperature in the manor also rose several degrees, which was nice considering it was winter and heat rises.

Jason laughs softly when he hears the whine. "You okay, buddy? Do you miss your Timmy? I miss him too. But with your leg the way it is, we can’t exactly join him out there, you know… Besides, he’s not nearly as bony as he looks and gives quality cuddles."

Bruce would love nothing more than to snuggle with his sons, but he would rather do it as a human and without the risk of any hanky-panky going on.

Hanky-panky.

Good Lord, he's turning into Clark.

He immediately relaxes and lets his entire body mass rest on Jason, trying to be heavy enough that his son can’t move. This earns him an _oomph_. “Buddy, I can’t _breathe_.”

Bruce shifts just enough for Jason to continue on living while at the same time finding it completely impossible to get up. He has puppy dog eyes now, and he’s not afraid to use them. Tim has used his to great effect over the years, and he likes to learn from masters of their craft.

He pulls everything he can from 'Tim wanting a new bike after he accidentally drove Red Bird into a dock' that ended with 'Bruce making a new Red Bird and two back up Red Birds just in case.'

Jason is _putty_ in his hands, sighing as he starts scratching the top of Bruce’s head. He nuzzles his face into his son’s side, ready to go into a nice sleep when the sky cracks open and lights up the sky. Bruce tenses up. He actually likes thunderstorms as a human, they’re almost… cleansing.

But he thinks that as a dog they are too loud and too _there_. Too close and too intense. As a dog, he can even sense the shift in the barometric pressure in the air. No wonder poor Titus always insists on snuggling with Damian during them while he and Bruce read in the library.

He thinks that he should make sure that Dick and Damian are doing well. He hasn’t heard anything about them since he came home with Jason. He isn’t sure if his boys have even realized he’s missing, and he hopes they will soon.

He would like to be an active father again. Not just to them, but to all of his boys.

A shaky breath draws him out of his reverie, and he gazes up at Jason, who’s staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. He looks to be on the verge of a panic attack, but when he notices Bruce’s eyes are on him, he attempts a smile.

“It’s okay. I just… I just don’t like storms. I never have.”

He never realized. He thought Jason had loved thunderstorms like him. He had always found him and snuggled close with a book, letting Bruce hold him tightly.

Perhaps he misread those nights.

“Back when I was a kid, the walls in our place were so thin that the whole building would shake when the thunder was close. My mom used to make the storms okay. She would always hold me throughout one, and after her, my dad took over. It’s just been hard without them.”

Another shaky breath, and this time Bruce notices the tears on Jason’s cheeks. It kills him that he can’t do anything more than try and lick them away. Jason gives a watery laugh as he pushes him down. “Thanks, buddy.” He sniffles. “I just don’t want Timmy to hear. He thinks… he thinks that I’m someone strong and I don’t want to let him down, you know?”

Jason is fiercely intelligent, but also so incredibly stupid if he thinks that Tim would think less of him for having a natural fear that many people have.

“You know, I really do miss them,” he continues. “Technically, I have four parents, but the two that I actually share genetics with never gave a shit about me. Would have sacrificed me in a heartbeat to save their own hide. Hell, one actually did. But Catherine was always my mom, you know? She’s the one who walked me to my first day of school. And she helped me with my homework. She worked three jobs to take care of me, but always made sure I went to the library for an hour every Saturday and we'd get all the books we could carry between us. And her chicken noodle soup? I know it was just Campbell’s, but I swear it was pure _magic_. Always made me feel a million times better when I was sick.

“And my dad? He’s the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet, but I don’t think very many people have as big a heart as he does. He didn’t have to love me and any of my brothers or take us in. No one expected it of him, but he expected it from himself. I just…” A shuddering breath erupts from Jason’s body, and Bruce knows that dogs can’t physically cry, but he feels very close to it. “I just miss him so much. But he’s the only person I have left. Everyone else who could call me their son is dead and gone, and I have to keep him away because if I let him too close he’s going to realize what a fuck-up I am, and then he’ll see what Willis and Sheila did and leave me too. So I have to go first.”

How did Bruce not know how much pain his son was in? How did he build these walls that Jason felt he couldn’t overcome? There is nothing that he wouldn’t forgive Jason for, nothing that would ever make him leave. He had only stayed away because he honestly thought Jason didn’t want him there. Never in a million years did he do it because he wanted to keep his distance.

Bruce tries to will himself back to human form now so he can give his son the biggest hug possible, but his body won’t cooperate.

Another boom and another crack of lightning, and Jason whimpers.

That’s the last straw.

He jumps off Jason, ignoring the cry only because he needs to do this _for_ him, and hurries into the bedroom. He quickly noses the sleeping Tim awake.

With bleary eyes, Tim looks at him and frowns. “What the hell, Dog?”

He just grips Tim’s shirt and pulls him half off the bed before hurrying back to the living room and a terrified Jason. Tim pads behind him, grumbling until he sees Jason, eyes squeezed tight and jaw clenched, his entire body shaking with fear as tears stain his cheeks.

Bruce is proud of how well he’s trained his son, because Tim bursts into action as he pulls Jason into a sitting position against his side, carding a hand through his hair as he shushes him.

“I’m here, Jay. I’m here, it's okay.”

“Don’t like storms,” he chokes out.

“That’s okay, baby. That’s okay. Here, let’s go to bed and I’ll find us something to watch while we cuddle.”

Jason takes a deep breath, still sounding a bit wet, and nods. With Tim’s help, he stands and stumbles towards the bed. Tim gets them both settled, and Bruce jumps up to curl around Jason, not willing to leave his son. Miraculously, the internet still works and Tim finds some sort of comedy on Netflix, which one Bruce can’t say. It does the trick, and Jason falls into a deep, if slightly troubled, sleep as the storm rages on.

“Thank you,” Tim whispers, and Bruce whines in response.

His sons are taking care of him, the way he’s supposed to care for them. Because that’s what family is supposed to do.

* * *

Bruce wakes up a few hours later. The early morning light is filtering in through the window, all grays and blues and yellows.

He's curled up next to Jason, and he can see a hand playing with his hair. When he raises his head, he sees Tim, wide awake and staring at the wall.

Bruce feels like an intruder at this domestic scene. An actual dog should be here, not a man who has been transformed. His teeth want to bare back in anger at _himself_. He tries to fight it, but he must make some sort of noise because Tim turns to look at him and rolls his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake… Never seen a dog be such a prude." He leans in close to Bruce and whispers in the most condescending voice possible (he's so proud), "We're both asexual! There's nothing for you to worry about."

The term isn't one Bruce is familiar with outside of plants, fungi, and single-cell organisms. However, since Tim seems to feel the term is self-explanatory, there may be different, deeper implications as it applies to humans who label themselves as such, and Bruce resolves to do further research into the matter once he regains thumbs. For now, he feels his understanding of etymology to be good enough to ascertain a general meaning. Prefix _a-_ , Greek, meaning 'not' or 'without'; attached to sexual, it certainly implies 'without sex' if nothing else.

The realization is a profound epiphany that rocks the very core of his being. He never realized there was a word for it before. Raising Dick, especially when the boy was a teenager, had meant seeing and hearing a lot of more of his… well, _dick_ , than Bruce had ever wanted.

He never did have that problem with Jason and Tim. Perhaps he'll get lucky and Damian will be the same.

And the idea of there being a word for not feeling sexual attraction… It stirs up something in Bruce, something he long thought that he had to accept as another reason he could never relate to the world.

As both Tim and Bruce settle down next to the still-sleeping Jason, he makes plans to look more into it when he returns to normal.

_If_ he returns to normal. Perhaps he should start considering a plan for that soon. He yawns, then reconsiders. It’s still far too early for all this. Maybe he’ll just rest his eyes a while longer…

* * *

Bruce awakens slowly, only gradually becoming aware that something has changed _drastically_ since he drifted off to sleep again. His hands twitch and he realizes with a start that he _has_ hands again. Well, the spell wearing off on its own was always a possibility. He's had a wonderful if bizarre experience spending time with his sons while in dog form, but it's probably for the best that he resumes his normal life and responsibilities once again.

He experiences an extremely disconcerting few moments during which he attempts to get to his feet but somehow finds himself crouched on all fours instead. Apparently it will take a while for his brain to default to human modes of locomotion instead of canine.

Hopefully no one saw that.

Bruce glances around furtively, then winces slightly as he catches sight of both Jason and Tim, standing nearby. They're staring down at him with matching grins of astonished delight on their faces, and Tim is holding a camera because _of course_ he is.

Also, Bruce is apparently _naked,_ because magic is horrible and makes no logical sense. He'd been _positive_ that the fact his Batman uniform disappeared when he was transformed meant he would be wearing it when he changed back.

Apparently not. He scowls.

"Doing alright there, B?" Jason's grin stretches even wider.

Bruce clears his throat and rises to his feet, covering himself with his hands and staring at his boys awkwardly while awaiting the cacophony of questions and perhaps accusations which are sure to ensue now that the truth has been revealed. He hadn't actually considered the possibility that they might resent having unintentionally revealed so much about their personal lives, he thinks somewhat guiltily.

Instead, Tim grabs a bag from beneath the bed and hands it to Bruce, who glances within and then just stares at it in confusion for a moment.

Why do the boys have a spare outfit in his size ready and waiting? It's almost as though…

Tim tilts his head to the side, smiling. "Relax, B. We've known it was you since early this morning, not long after you fell back asleep. The mage told Z what he did to you, and Dick texted us in a panic because he couldn't find any traces of the dog in the alley and it’s already been longer than a day since it happened. We put the pieces together pretty fast after that."

Bruce frowns. "And you didn't see fit to wake me up and mention this to me?"

Jason clears his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Well, Z said the spell would wear off on its own within a couple of days. And you seemed to be enjoying yourself okay…" He glances away and Bruce is amazed to see he's _blushing_ slightly. He looks oddly vulnerable and Tim bumps his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I was," Bruce manages. "I am." He's managed to make it this far without inserting his foot into his mouth, so he continues. "It was wonderful spending time with you boys. Thank you for your hospitality."

Tim grins. "It was fun… mostly. Although I think we're going to have to get a _real_ dog now that we've gotten used to having one around."

Jason snorts, apparently past his emotional moment. "Yeah, it was _somethin'_ alright." He grins and Bruce tenses instinctively at the mischievous expression on his face. "So, you gonna get dressed and have breakfast with us now or are ya just gonna stand there showin' off the family jewels? I mean, at this point we all know how fuckin' _attached_ to those things you are, but _damn."_

Bruce winces at the reminder, then shakes his head with a smile as his boys snort with laughter.

Breakfast sounds good.

  
Art by [clarityhiding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/).

  
Art by [Airdanteine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airdanteine).

**Author's Note:**

> Across art creation, writing, editing, and generally helping the rest of us figure out how to dog, _Good Boys_ contains contributions from Airdanteine, bewaretheboojum, njw, salazarstark, Snow (Silver_Snow_77), strawberryjei, themandylion (clarityhiding), shmoo92 (artificiallifecreator), chibi_nightowl, and vellaphoria.
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who helped make this collaborative work happen!
> 
> [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn)


End file.
